


i'm waiting for the drop

by chameleonchanging



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/pseuds/chameleonchanging
Summary: It’s late December and Percival is okay and Theseus doesn’t believe him.





	i'm waiting for the drop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elareine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/gifts).



Theseus finally manages to get his time off in late December and hops a portkey to New York with barely enough time to pack a bag. He lands with poor grace, stumbling a few steps on the marble floor and nearly dropping his bag before he catches himself and straightens. There, waiting for him just past the cordon, are Newt and Percival. 

“Thank god,” he says, pulling Newt into a bear hug. “What were you thinking, getting in a fight with Grindelwald?”

“Hello to you too, Theseus,” says Newt, sounding a little squeezed. When Theseus lets go, he grins. “In my defense, I didn’t know it was him. I just thought something was wrong with your boyfriend.”

He looks fine. Hunched over like usual, clutching the handle of his suitcase, conspicuously tied with string. Theseus gives him another once-over and then turns to Percival next to him. The man is a little paler than Theseus remembers, a little thinner, with a new coat and new clothes. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his posture stiff, but he’s smiling and pleased.

“Thes,” says Percival.

“Percy,” says Theseus.

“Just give him a kiss and be done with it,” says Newt, turning on his heel and covering his eyes.

-

Percival keeps an apartment in the city limits. It’s tastefully but sparsely furnished, and the smell of new fabric lingers in the air when Theseus steps through the front door. Newt vanishes up the stairs to his own room for rounds, and Percival meanders through to the kitchen to boil water, leaving Theseus to explore on his own.

There are a handful of pictures at the writing table, a few gifts from Percival’s parents and a few more from Theseus himself scattered in various rooms. Case files are spread across the dining table. The chair cushions are all piled on one end of the couch, and the beginnings of a dent are forming on the other end. The bed is made loosely, with a dime novel on the nightstand by the lamp in easy reach.

It all looks so normal. 

It makes Theseus shiver.

-

The next day is Thursday, and Percival is up at his usual time getting ready to go to work, climbing out of bed carefully to keep from waking Theseus, to no avail. Theseus rolls over to watch him shave in the bathroom mirror, the blade gliding down his throat, holding Theseus’ attention until he moves in just the wrong way washing the lather from his face and the light catches across pale spidery scars running up Percival’s back. They hadn’t been there before.

He slides out of bed and comes up behind Percival, wrapping his arms around his torso and pressing his nose into Percival’s back, taking in an unfamiliar aftershave. 

Percival stills, and then tangles their hands together over his stomach.

-

“How’s he doing?” Theseus asks on the way to the MACUSA for lunch. “Honestly, Newt. Is Percy okay?”

Newt shrugs. “He’s seen better days,” he says. “But you really should just ask him.” 

“I’m asking you,” says Theseus, “same as I’m asking him about how you’re doing. Neither of you would say anything if you broke a leg, but you’ll tattle on anyone else given two seconds and half a chance.”

“That’s probably true,” says Newt, who was very used to Auror bruskness in general and Theseus’ loose grasp on manners in particular. “But I don’t really know Percival, other than what you’ve told me and how he’s been since he offered me his spare room.”

They walk another block in silence before Newt speaks again. “He’s better now than he was two weeks ago.”

“But?”

“But.” Newt shrugs. “Grindelwald wasn’t kind. You know what kind of man he is, and what kind of man Percival is. Tina says the healers had their work cut out for them.”

“I see,” says Theseus. He thinks of the lines on Percival’s back and what it would have taken to leave marks even magic couldn’t erase.

-

Percival is on half days until the President is assured he won’t fall over unconscious in the middle of a meeting, so they all go to the zoo after lunch. Newt abandons them for the elephant exhibit as soon as they’re through the gates, leaving Theseus and Percival alone for the rest of the afternoon.

They wander between exhibits, just enough space between them for propriety. Percival leads and Theseus follows, his dutiful shadow, and all the while he watches for any sign that anything might be wrong. But it’s just - not there. Percival laughs quietly when a monkey falls off a tree, and flushes when Theseus insists on buying him peanuts, and he brushes his lips over the back of Theseus’ glove when no one is watching, meeting his gaze through his eyelashes like they’re teenagers romancing each other in the passing period between classes, and Theseus -

Theseus just doesn’t understand.

-

It’s Friday evening and they’re alone at home in front of the fire with a tumblr of whiskey each and Percival is staring into the flickers like he’s seeing into a different time. And Theseus thinks  _ he’s putting up a front _ , he thinks _ he’s being strong for everyone else _ , he thinks  _ who is strong for him? _ So he sets down his glass on the end table and sinks to his knees in front of Percival. He takes Percival’s hands in his, running his thumbs along his knuckles, breathing against Percival’s cool fingers to warm them, and slowly Percival looks down at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Thes?” he asks. “Why are you on the floor?”

“You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” Theseus says instead of answering. “Anything at all.”

“I know,” says Percival. He shifts, leans forward. “What’s going on?”

“How - How are you, Perce?” he manages. The words catch in his throat, refuse to come out, but somehow Percival understands anyway.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” says Percival. “Really. I’m still here and in one piece. Everything else will come.” 

“You’re not fine,” says Theseus. 

“No, I’m not,” Percival agrees. “I’m not fine, Thes. He hurt me. He stole something from me that I didn’t think could be stolen, and I’m still coming to terms with that. But - I have people around me who are helping me be okay again, and I’m getting there. Slowly, but I’m getting there.” He smiles his little half-smile, the one that Theseus had never managed to capture on film in 18 months bouncing back and forth from the front. For the first time, he looks every one of his 40 years. “Don’t worry, Thes. I’m getting there.”   


“I’ll always worry,” said Theseus, his voice breaking. “You know that, don’t you? Every day I can’t see you for myself, and even every day that I can.”

Percival doesn’t say anything, but he pulls Theseus onto the couch with him, and that’s answer enough.  
  
-

(In the morning, Theseus wakes with his head in Percival’s lap and papers stacked on his chest. He nearly knocks them all off when he tries to sit up, and a few of them escape anyway. Percival slides the pages into a folder and sets them aside.

“Homework,” he says, when Theseus gives him a curious look. “From the healers.”

“Yeah?” Theseus asks. “What’s the assignment?”

“To write about something that makes me happy,” says Percival. “But I got distracted doodling in the margins.”

“Must be a lot of doodling,” Theseus says. “That must be seven feet of parchment’s worth.” He picks up one of the stray pages -

\- and finds a sketch of himself, sleeping. It’s rough, with extra lines everywhere in ink, but it’s him. He looks up, breathless, and meets Percival’s gaze. 

“Having you helps.”)


End file.
